A Journal of Exile
by AdylinJ
Summary: Personal look at Rissa Rohm's journal of her exile as she tries to come to terms with the loss of the Force and the actions of her past. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

_How did it come to this? We never, well I never, in my wildest dreams thought my life would hinge on the capricious nature of one man. How did I let this happen?_

_When I came to the academy as a young kid, I knew nothing of family or even dealing with others that were like me. Well, since the kids in the orphanage weren't Force users, of course they weren't like me. I avoided them like the plague even though they continually sought me out, did as I did. I never asked for their friendship or companionship. I wanted to be left alone, just like my parents left me alone. Relationships meant commitment and commitment meant a big deep pit that dragged you down and ate you alive._

_So again, I can only wonder how I let myself get into this mess. _

_When Master Kavar brought me to the Jedi academy on Dantooine, I thought maybe things would be different. I could co-exist with the other students and still have my own space. It lasted for a while and then Revan and his pack of hanger-on's lured me in. Well, maybe lured is a harsh term. I had realized I needed to interact more with my fellow Padawans. After all, the same thing that happened at the orphanage was happening at the academy. It wasn't as if I was rich or had cookies with me all the time or anything I ever did, but people seemed drawn to me and at times it drove me nuts. One reason for these journals; I can piss and moan in private while putting on a compassionate and kind face for the galaxy._

_Revan was all right, good looking in a rough and scruffy sort of way but he had a way of looking at you with those light gray eyes of his that could make you squirm. Or, as one memorable month comes to mind, make you want, desire, and then crave more. I don't think he appreciated me laughing at him when he broke things off, but come on; did he really think my life was going to vastly improve to perfection just because we bounced on a bunk a few times? Get real. Relationships mean commitment and commitment is that big deep pit that drags you down and eats you alive._

_At least the Jedi code and I can agree on that._

Rissa Rohm, Jedi Knight, and Republic General set down the data pad she used to record her thoughts at the melodic beeping of the door. "Come."

"General. We're approaching the rendezvous point and are just out of scanner range of Malachor V. Some of the Republic fleet have already arrived and are awaiting orders."

"Tell them to sit tight until we get there." She watched as the smartly dressed lieutenant nodded his acceptance of the orders and turned to leave. "Any sign of Revan and the rest of the fleet?"

"No, ma'am."

When the door shut at his back, Rissa picked up the data pad.

_And there won't be because the bastard is setting us up, I can feel it in my bones. Ah, Revan, when did you fall? At what point, since we started this unholy crusade against the Mandalorians, did you decide that the taste of power was more to your liking than helping the innocent lives they had slaughtered? _

_At what point did I decide to turn a blind eye? Is it because I'm tired of seeing the dead that haunt my dreams, their blood mingling with those that tried to stop them, the lifeless yet pleading eyes of those that fall, slide sickly, from the end of my saber. I stepped over their mangled bodies and went on to the next because I believed in what we were doing. Wiping out a scourge that threatened to enslave the Republic and destroy entire worlds all in the name of honor and glory._

_What honor and glory is there in what you are doing? What grand scheme are you even now cooking up? I hope it's worth it. I hope you can live with the destruction you will have wrought if you don't show up to help end this debacle you convinced us to start. Maybe the Council was right, maybe patience was the way to go, but again, the dreams that haunt me tell me otherwise._

Rissa paused to pour more Corellian ale in the glass at her elbow. Taking a long drink, she sat back, closed her eyes, and opened herself to the Force.

_They're here, waiting, watching, wondering when the Republic will make their foolish stand against them. It is their sacred world after all. An ancient Sith world, off limits but sacred nonetheless. I wonder if anyone has ever bothered to ask them why. I wonder if they ever bothered to ask why Revan chose this spot for a final conflict. Surely, the Mandalorians are not that stupid to think this is just another skirmish. They have to know that Revan let it leak that he would be coming here. Hell a three year old could figure that out. Now, there they sit waiting, thinking they are lying in wait to ambush – what some have said – is the greatest strategist the Republic has even seen; The Revanchist. Fools, every last one of them and here I am on my way to lead the pack. To slaughter them all._

She tossed aside the data pad, finished the warming ale in one swallow, and left the meager office of the command ship.

*************************

Massacre was to tame a word for what was going on outside the bridge window. Not only had the Republic suffered massive losses, but then so had the Mandalorians. It was a no win situation and there had been little word from Revan since he had battled and killed Mandalore the Ultimate himself. His silence now was telling to her. He had made his choice and was condemned them all to their deaths with his turn to the dark side.

Rissa could smell the fear of the men around her as they fought valiantly against the Mandalorians and their punishing attacks with their laser cannons, suicide runs with their Basilisk war droids at the Republic vessels that seemed to wink out of life at a steady pace.

Fear was something she had shoved aside at an early age. It was when she woke up in a hospital room, a young girl, the bandages only making her seem smaller and more insignificant, as if they could hide the battered child inside. She couldn't have been more than five or six, but she knew she didn't want to be afraid, didn't want that feeling of helplessness that - in tandem - fear and terror always brought.

The doctors and droids poked, prodded, bandaged, re-bandaged, and told her, her parents had left her for dead. _Don't be afraid_, they said in calm and condescending tones, _everything will be fine, you'll see._ And for Rissa there hadn't been a choice, so to feel it from the soldiers around her was a curious sensation. One she didn't welcome.

It crawled along her skin, sharp sticks of pain, needling her nerves. Feeling scraped raw she rolled her shoulders and turned as the Zabrak, Bao Dur stepped beside her. His manner was always a quiet one, but under that serene calm, she knew the heart of a warrior was close to the surface.

They had served together since the Mandalorians had decimated his homeworld and she had found comfort in his quiet and steady support. Now, in the hour when she needed guidance the most, she wouldn't ask him for it, would turn from the support and comfort he would surely offer. The decision was hers and hers alone. He had only provided the means to the end.

"Do it," she whispered.

It started as a low hum to accompany the prickling nerves and fear that was now screaming through her. One by one, her extremities seemed to catch fire and crescendo along with the pounding in her head.

She pressed the fingers of one hand to her temple in a vain attempt to keep her brains from spilling from her ears.

Each of her senses seemed to spike into overload before dying like a slow acting poison that numbed her nerve endings. She didn't feel Bao Dur's grip on her arm. The smell and taste of panic, fear and sweaty terror nearly choked her as the sight of hundred of ships being crushed in the gravity pull of Malachor V burned itself into her brain. Finally, the screams of the dying reached such a cacophony that even with her hands over her ears she couldn't hear her own cries of denial, her pleading for it to stop before all went dark and silent.


	2. Chapter 2

_A year. Has it really been a year? A year since I defiantly rammed my double-bladed light saber in the stone monolith in the Jedi Council chambers. _

_It's not that I hated being a Jedi. They gave me a home when they plucked me from the orphanage. The masters, especially Kavar, had educated me, trained me, and actually made me feel like I could be a part of something. Oh, I was part of something all right; I was a part of the greatest calamity the Republic had seen in generations._

Rissa set the data pad aside and stretched. Like so many other things, she had stopped writing her journals after Malachor V. She couldn't really say why, but lately she had been feeling edgy and out of sorts, her thoughts scrambling for purchase in her mind.

She still had off moments when she thought she heard a whisper or felt a chill of knowing along her skin but these were fleeting allusions, phantom senses that it seemed, if she really concentrated, she could capture. In those moments and on the off chance she might be getting better, Rissa thought returning to keeping a record of what she was feeling might be helpful.

It took weeks to really understand what had happened to her. When she regained consciousness after the Mass Shadow Generator was activated, she found herself in the medical bay of the command ship. She hurt, felt cold and empty, like she was standing on the edge of an abyss but couldn't fall over. Physically she was fine, but she knew something was wrong; she just couldn't catch enough of an idea to figure it out. It would be months before she really understood that her connection to the Force had been severed.

Revan, the back stabbing son of a bitch couldn't, no, wouldn't help her. He actually had the nerve to come see her after he and Alek had abandoned her and the rest of the fleet at Malachor V. "Unavoidably detained" he told her in that patronizing voice that begged forgiveness while insulting the intelligence of the listener. Rissa hadn't fallen off a wagon just out of the barn, she knew he had lingered at the edges of the battle after destroying Mandalore the Ultimate. Knowing that, and remembering the fear and death that overwhelmed her just the sight of him was making her nearly as ill as her injuries. To hurry him along, she asked what he was going to do next.

"I'm going to finish this. I would take you with me, but it's obvious you're in no condition to fight."

"Fight what, Revan?"

"I'm going after the Mandalorians, they can't be allowed to recover, regroup, or they will attack again." He sounded reasonable, well as reasonable as a leader in a war sounded, but Rissa knew him, she heard the arrogance whisper behind his words and her disgust with him . . . "Rissa, I need you to go back to the council. Tell them and the Senate that the threat still exists. I need you to do that for me. They'll listen to you."

What he hadn't told her and what Rissa learned when she was placed under house arrest was that Revan, Alek and many of the Jedi and soldiers that went with him had disappeared into the unknown regions.

The Jedi Council didn't take out bounties on their own Knights and Padawans but that didn't stop the Republic military from issuing arrest warrants for their men that were AWOL and since they didn't know the intentions of Revan, he was added to the most wanted list. Revan and Alek - no Malek. Like no one would figure it out? Duh! Alek must have thought the lowly peons of the galaxy were dumber than a box of rocks. The man was an idiot, Revan's biggest slobbering fan that brought new meaning to the word sycophant.

Rissa had never liked him, but Alek Squishymishywishywashy was the least of her worries. She was being judged by the council for doing what she felt was right. Or for what they were too weak to do. When Revan had told her to return and tell the council of the continuing Mandalorian threat, she had been too out of it and it never occurred to her that he, once again, had thrown her into the Rancor's nest. Now the council was nattering on about the irresponsibility of their actions that things were only going to be worse now. Vrook, the master with the proverbial stick up his ass, was the worse. If it wasn't doom and gloom it wasn't worth doing. She defended herself as much as she thought necessary, and when they announced her sentence would be exile, she was actually relieved. She was done being a Jedi.

And when one door closed, didn't the Force open a window? Actually, it was the opposite since she jimmied the door to Revan's quarters he shared with Alek on Coruscant. He wasn't going to need anything in there since he had truly walked away from the order and Rissa was pissed off enough to wonder why it should go to waste. The bastard had set her up, had used her was her way of thinking, and this, petty theft though it was, would be a small payback. Besides, she would need funds.

Rissa sold most of her meager possessions, and what she took of Revan's, in the first few days of her freedom and bought what she thought of as normal clothes and a small blaster. It wouldn't do much more than cause a bruise but she was use to carrying a weapon and well, a bruise just might buy enough time to get away. Either that or kill the enemy with laughter because the blaster was such a joke, death by hilarity was quite possible.

She stuffed the change of clothes into her beat-up bag thinking, _I'd never run from something before and now I can't wait to get away._

Good riddance.

Checking to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind in the meager motel room, she opened the door to find a small envelop at her feet. She was going to ignore it, thinking the little weasel of a manager was trying to charge her for breathing the air, but he would have shown up in person just to harass and leer at her. Bending down she picked it up, opened it, and found several hundred credits. There was no note, no indication who had left it. It could have been dropped and the idea of turning it in crossed her mind. Rissa snorted as she stuffed it in her coat pocket. _That's the Jedi thing to do,_ she thought.

"To hell with that."

She closed the door, jogged down the steps, out the main entrance and walked away from the only life she had ever really known.

_That's why I haven't written in a journal. I guess I equated them with my old life but I think I realize now, I just need to do it. I may have left my old life behind, but I haven't left behind who I am. Well, if I ever figure out who I am I'll know I haven't left her behind._

The first year of her exile, Rissa spent on a planet she never even bothered to learn the name of, lying in the sun during the day and prowling the casinos and cantinas at night. She parlayed the several hundred credits into several thousand at the Pazaak tables. She expanded her wardrobe to include three changes of clothes instead of one and added an illegally modified blaster as well as a vibroblade to her belongings.

Rissa drank, got into fights, slept around – although she had high standards – and built her reputation as a badass. Bounty hunter, smuggler, thief, these were a few of the things she had done to either survive or break up the boredom of the Pazaak tables. She kept "the bruiser", the small blaster she thought of fondly as her clutch piece and she found herself friends with a Twi'lek named U'Dina.

_Found? Ambushed is more like it!_ Rissa sat at a small table on the terrace of her almost as small apartment. She stretched out her long legs, took a long drink of the ale at her elbow and thought about the best way to describe U'Dina.

_Purple. Precocious. Perky. Overly perky and pushy and persistent. I never set out to make friends. After all, the Jedi proved that having friends was a dangerous proposition. They would use you, stab you in the back, lie to your face and would just as soon kick you to the curb rather than listen to you. And I need to let this go. It's done and hanging on to the bitterness . . . knowing they . . . Oh frack this. They abandoned you just like your parents._

Rissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before adding to her thoughts.

_I wasn't having the best night at the tables so I cashed out and not wanting to go home yet, I wandered into the bar for a drink. Some idiot thought I was on the prowl for some "action" and wouldn't take no for an answer. _

_I was ready to flatten his nose when U'Dina showed up with two guys on her arm apologizing, profusely, for being late. I recognized her, sort of, as being one of the dancers when I first came in. Why she was horning in on my desire to drink alone, I didn't know, but I was grateful when one of the guys she was dragging beside her crowded the loser out of the way._

"Never could get rid of you after that, huh," she mumbled as she took a drink of ale.

_She continually crowded into my life, trailing men behind her and dragging me to some club or party. I haven't figured out if I should be grateful she keeps me from brooding about things that cannot change in my past or of I should be . . . what, insulted because she doesn't think I can find my own dates? I can, it's just easier when she does it. That makes it efficient, right? She has good taste in men and only missed a couple of times._

_Men aside, U'Dina's restored my faith in friendships. She asked once, about my past, and I told her I didn't want to talk about it. She shrugged and simply said, "That's cool. Makin' stuff up is so much more exciting." Maybe her unwavering acceptance and support is what has kept me from brushing her off. I don't need a lot of friends; you only get hurt with a lot of friends, but maybe one, once in a while is okay._

When she heard the banging on her door she frowned at the interruption.

"Open the damn door, Ris!"

Then she winced before she smiled. "Just a minute," she called out as she looked at the data pad on her lap.

_Yeah, once in a while is okay. Besides being purple she's also the one thing that keeps me sane._

As soon as she opened the door, U'Dina accused, "You forgot, didn't you," as she breezed into the room on high heeled boots that came to her knees before exposing her purple skin to just below her crotch where a black micro miniskirt began.

Rissa opened her mouth to protest but realized that her friend was probably right. It wasn't that she was forgetful all the time, but U'Dina had a way of making plans and telling Rissa on the fly. It was the quick notification that caused the forgetfulness. "No, I . . ."

"I swear," U'Dina gusted on a sigh. "How do you even remember to eat?" She swirled around the room, the tight skirt limiting her strides, but the seemingly miles of brightly colored fabric of the low-cut shirt twirled around her arms and lekku. "That's why you're so disgustingly skinny. You forget to eat." She shook head. "The new club that opened at the docks; you said you'd go with me."

Rissa nodded, wondering how she was going to get out of this one. She didn't want to go out and be slobbered over by horny space jocks, and playing Pazaak, well after the other night, she felt she should probably lay low at the tables. She was gaining a reputation and that meant attention she didn't want, but looking at U'Dina's bright eyes told her she wouldn't be able to wiggle out of going.

"I didn't forget, I just got caught up in . . . something. I'll go change."

U'Dina took in her friend's battered tan pants and blue shirt that seemed to be smeared with an unidentified substance. She thought, _yuck._ "Comb your hair too!" She said with a cheeky smile as she watched Rissa walk from the room.

What in the world would Rissa be caught up in. As far as U'Dina knew, Rissa did nothing but play cards and take the occasional questionably legal job. Whenever she asked about what she was doing or where she had gone, Rissa always told her, "It was just a job, boring shit, nothing else."

Rissa came back into the room, picked up the data pad and locked it in a small safe. "Let's go."

"Any good juicy secrets on that?"

"Just my life as a Jedi," she said with a grin. She had learned early in her training that sometimes casually telling the truth was the quickest way to end a conversation with a skeptic.

"Pffft, right, you a Jedi." U'Dina shook her head and danced out the door.

That night Rissa would learn she had made an enemy of a man known only as Garrik.

*************************

_They killed her! They butchered her, cut off her lekku while she was still alive. By the gods, what have I done? I don't know! I have thought and thought about this. I've been so careful to keep a low profile. Didn't I back off when things seemed to get sticky or to hot or uncomfortable? I don't want any attention, but apparently I wasn't careful enough and they killed her. Striped her of her dignity and . . ."_

Rissa stopped writing when the words began to blur through her tears. Sitting in the dark and cold little room by the space port, she wiped her eyes before closing them and talking slow deep breaths. _Think,_ she told herself. _Who the hell is Garrick and what did I do to cause this?_

Garrik was as slick and oily as Hutt shit, the self-professed leader of the local exchange. Not someone you wanted as an enemy but what are you going to do. Apparently, Garrik thought she was trying to muscle in on his territory so he sent two goons to 'teach her a lesson.'

They ambushed her in her small apartment on the night she had gone out with U'Dina. One of the men held her while his partner delivered the 'lesson' one broken finger at a time. Although hideous, she could handle the pain; not everything the Jedi taught her involved the Force. It was the prospect of being raped, that cleared the haze of throbbing and when they began tearing at her clothes, she became as feral as a Kath hound. Breaking one arm free of its hold, she rammed the heel of her palm into her attacker's nose killing him as the cartilage ripped into his brain. The other thug was so stunned by her quickness he never had time to realize he was being eviscerated with the vibroblade they hadn't thought to take from her.

Beaten, bloody and in shock, Rissa found her inner strength to clear her mind enough to gather her things and go to ground.

Whatever investigation had been conducted it was half-assed since the dead men were known criminals and no one thought them a great loss. The authorities weren't looking for her, but a week later, she discovered she'd been banned from the casinos and U'Dina had been found dead in the river.

There was a price on her head and shaken more than she wanted to examine, Rissa boarded the first available shuttle.


	3. Chapter 3

Rissa knew it would come and she knew it would be bad. The nightmare always left her cold and shaken but at least it had the decency to let her know it was coming - the greasy sickness in her gut just before it reared up to clobber her like a cudgel.

They began shortly after Garrick had pounded on her and murdered U'Dina. Her recovery had taken weeks. Weeks she could do little physical activity so that left her mind free to wander aimlessly despite her best efforts otherwise. She'd read more books and journals than she thought possible but she found it was the physical that kept her thoughts focused more than anything else. Needless to say the second she was well enough to exercise and go back to work she did; always driving toward the point of exhaustion. Rissa learned to survive on very little sleep; a few hours at a time and only then it was because she couldn't take another step.

_Dell Dows, blonde, green eyes, young . . . dead._

_Mutt, no, Muttha Aks, Black hair, dark eyes, young . . . dead._

_Alis, blue Twi'lek, demolitions expert, young . . . dead._

_Lieutenant, no Captain, no . . . .young . . . dead._

_Padawan Lute Tay, young . . . dead._

_Captain, knight, soldier, sergeant, young, soldier, dead, padawan, soldier, young, soldier, dead, soldier, soldier, young dead soldier . . ._

_The battered body laid at her feet, the markings of the rape and brutality showed like beacons in the darkness. The lekku, hacked into pieces, laid scattered around the body. Decay was already evident from being in the water as were the nibble marks of animals that lived in the murky deep. The eye's popped open, U'Dina's eyes, dead and dark. "Why did you kill me?"_

Rissa's eyes flew open as she fought through the heaviness of the names and faces that weighed on her. When she tried to move, she found herself unable to and panic set in. Her left hand beat against the mattress as she scrabbled her heels trying to gain leverage while she slapped at the heaviness on her chest. Had the burden of all she had done in the past finally come to claim its last victim?

"Babe, you're gunna hafta to give me a minute here –"

She turned her head to find the source of the heaviness on her chest. Rissa swallowed back the scream when she saw his face was deathly pale as if the life was being leeched from him. His hand was slowly creeping its way up her torso, headed for her breast. _Who? What?_ Then it all snapped back. They had played Pazaak, then they played footsies, then they had come back here and played. She sucked in a breath, blinked the image clear and slapped a hand to his chest.

"Get out," she told him with a firm shove. Play time was over and she wanted, desperately, to be alone.

"Honey, come on, the night is young."

She put more effort into it. "Play time's over, get out," she snapped as she used both hands to shove at him. He was a big guy and in her present panicked state her hands were shaking. Not a good situation.

"Now, babe . . ." he said holding his hands out when he found himself staring down the barrel of a blaster. He didn't know where it came from but she moved awfully quickly for a skinny little thing, he thought.

"What part of get out don't you understand," she asked as she came up on her knees, the blaster pointed at his chest as the heart in her own pounded a staccato beat. The faces of the nightmare continued to keep time as the dream faded.

He gathered his clothes and hurriedly put them on all the while staring at the naked crazy woman with the blaster that seemed to stalk his every move. When he reached the door, he took a moment to put on his jacket. "You are one cold, crazy bitch."

The second the door closed, she dropped the blaster, dove to the mechanism to lock it, and then leaned against the barrier before she slowly let herself slide to her butt. She dug the heel of her palms against her eyes in an effort to erase the images of the dead that still flashed through her mind.

"Why now," she whispered as she let her hands drop and tipped her head back. She swallowed back the emotion that threatened to spill over.

_No emotion, only peace, no emotion, only peace, no emotion only peace._

"Liar liar pants on fire," she mumbled as she took deep breaths to calm her nerves. "Do you hear that Vrook, the Sith have it right. Peace is a lie." _At least in my little world it is._

She sat for a few more moments letting her nerves settle. When she felt somewhat steadier, she stood, rummaged for a short robe in a pile of clothes on the floor and shot her arms through the sleeves as she made her way to the small wet bar in the corner of her suite. The debate over the selection took less time than it did to blink and she poured the tall glass of Corellian Whiskey, gathered her data pad and settled herself on the balcony of the swanky hotel she was staying in.

_I had the dream again, the one that runs like a criminal lineup of faces and stats, just enough to remind me of who they were before their inevitable fate at my hands. It makes no difference that they knew the costs of going to war, that every time they picked up a weapon; it could lead to their last breath; that they had dedicated themselves to the defense of the Republic._

_Maybe this is why the council preached caution instead of running off to war. Maybe this is the real reason the Jedi strive to be peaceful; they don't want to deal with the aftermath._

_I wonder . . . Master Vrook was always scolding me about my ability to create attachments through the Force. He would accuse me of doing it on purpose to manipulate my fellow Padawans. I didn't want the ability, but that bastard Revan did and by the time I figured out he had manipulated _me_, it was too late. The other Jedi Knights and Padawans were following us off to a war that Revan had convinced them was the right thing to do for the Republic. How many men, women and children of the order perished because I formed these attachments so easily? Eres II, Althir, Dxun, Malachor V. This is where the names and faces came from._

_Do I still posses the ability to create these attachments even though the frackin' Jedi Council severed my link to the Force? Is this why I feel so responsible for U'Dina's death? The others? I've killed, slaughtered, murdered thousands, and ordered thousands more to their death. I accept this so why should I continue to be punished? _

_I went back for Force sake, to take responsibility for what I'd done. Cutting me off from the Force and exile wasn't punishment enough? Has the council decided I need to suffer more so they stalk my dreams at night with the names and faces of those that didn't come back? If they're doing this to me, are they doing the same to Revan? Or are they to busy rebuilding their precious order, denying the reasons why so many left. Why I left in the first place. _

Rissa dropped the pad in her lap and shook her head. This is why she hated the nightmares; this particular nightmare. Not only for the guilt it caused but it also brought back with a flood all the reasons she left with Revan, agreed to be his general and guide the Republic on its quest to defeat the Mandalorians. And it got her nothing. Literally.

"Not nothing," she mumbled before taking a long drink. "I get to sit on a swank patio in the finest hotel, drink the best whiskey and I don't have to listen to a bunch of sanctimonious, self-righteous . . . blowhards preach about peace and patience."

_How did I ever stand myself when I sat among them bloviating about the same crap? Maybe I didn't leave simply because I thought it the right thing to do for the innocents the Mandalorians were slaughtering. Maybe I did it because my own sense of self couldn't stand the pretense any longer. _

_I wonder what they'll do when that black-hearted son of a bitch Revan screams back into the Republic at the head of an armada of Sith. Sith that were once Jedi and Republic soldiers. I'm sure the vaunted council will sit back once again and preach patience. The fools!_

"No! No, I am not a Jedi. I will not be sucked back into that morass of hypocrisy. They condemned my actions, abandoned me when I needed them most - for disobeying their rules - and punished me with exile for doing what they taught me, to do what I felt was right." She choked and coughed as her throat tightened. "I am _not_ a Jedi."

Yet as it so often did when the dreams plagued her – and much beyond her control – she found herself mortified she couldn't stop the tears from running down her cheeks. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes in a vain effort to stop the pounding in her head. Why did she continue to grieve for what was lost. "Grow a spine," she muttered before giving over to the crushing weight on her chest, and letting the pent-up frustration; fear and sorrow run its course.

When she was steadier, she finished the whiskey at her elbow before finding a more comfortable spot on the chaise and watching the sun rise before dropping back into a fitful sleep. This time, when the dream began, she didn't fight her way clear but let it run the names and faces. Rissa knew she had demons in her life she would need to deal with; the nightmare of the young. When she woke, she picked up her data pad once more.

_It's so easy to blame the council for these nightmares; that they're also a part of my punishment, but they were never that powerful. I doubt they even know what the Force can truly do. You don't realize that until you've lost its use. If there is one to blame it would be Revan, simply because I can call him a jerk and an asshole for getting me into this frackin mess, but that's not being truthful. He didn't hold a blaster to my head; I went into the war with my eyes open even if my heart was caught up in the romance of riding to the rescue, being the heroes. I can't change the past. I'll live with the burden of my actions, the faces in my dreams. I just can't make them – or any others in the future - become a part of my life. I don't think I could stand it if their names and faces were added to the list._

And with that she silently declared she was done with friends. Friends – and she thought of U'Dina's name being added to the list of the dead - required some level of commitment and, after all, commitments were a big scary pit that dragged you down and ate you alive.

*************************

The fancy hotel had been a luxury and she knew it could be dangerous, but the idea of lying around like a slug and being waited on had been worth the risk. The massages and hot springs had gone a long way to ease the last of the stiffness in her muscles from the beating she took courtesy of Garrick who continued to send his goons after her. She still didn't really know what she had done to piss him off in the first place but the man had a long memory and was relentless. Every place she stopped seemed to be a magnet for his hired thugs. The only other thing she'd learned about him was that he had his fingers into a lot of illegal activities and his fist around the throats of numerous law enforcement agencies.

This was why Rissa sat in the far corner of a spaceport waiting for the boarding announcement for the transport to whisk her away. She spotted some of Garrick's finest waiting in the hotel lobby, their broken noses and thick necks screaming _hired thug_. She hadn't totally shaken off the dregs of the nightmare - and was just pissy enough her mini vacation had been interrupted - that she didn't feel like dealing with them. Others that had crossed her path had gone back to Garrick with broken bones, bloody noses, or in a body bag. These two she sent lunch with a very special spice that would turn their insides, well, inside out. _Pays to be a smuggler_, she thought at the time.

So she sat slumped over, a cap pulled low on her brow to hide her eyes and tried to give the impression she was dozing. What she was doing was watching everyone around her and especially a young kid, teenager really, trying to help an elderly couple. The old man kept swatting at the kid like a pesky gnat, but the woman beamed kindness and smiles at the little blonde dressed in lose clothing she recognized all too well.

"Idiot. I guess he didn't get the memo that Jedi are persona non-grata in the galaxy about now, huh?" This was from a man that sat down next to her. He shook his head. "Do you think they teach stupidity at those secret academies they have? I mean if he was any more obvious," he trailed off before casually pointing to the far side of the hanger. "See, waaay to obvious."

Rissa had seen the young Padawan and the attention he was drawing from a couple of men dressed in dark clothes. _This kid's not the only obvious one,_ she thought as the guy chattered next to her. _Perhaps it's time to get my own ship. I won't have to deal with Jedi and Sith in the space port . . . or strangers thinking I want to have a conversation with them._

"So, want to sleep together?"

Her head snapped up, all thought of the Jedi and Sith across the boarding area gone as she found herself looking into a pair of hazel eyes set in a . . . interesting face.

"Excuse me?"

"Babe," he said as he put his hand over his heart. "You wound me." His voice held a hint of exaggerated hurt while his eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter.

"Beat it," she growled, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"Honey, come home with me. It'll be worth it." He leaned close to her looking earnest.

"Do you have a death wish?"

His lips turned up in a grin. "Not particularly. I just don't see a need to bother with all the cost and pretty words to get a woman into bed. I don't stick . . ."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I see," he answered with a sad shake of his head. "You probably need all the flowers and mushy words and crap. Not me babe, not a flower on me, or mushy word in my vocabulary. As I said, I don't stick around. Wham bam thank you ma'am, that's Kinny Madx." With that, he stood and shot her a dazzling smile. "Sorry to take up your time."

Stunned wasn't the right word. Staggered, taken aback, shocked stupid! _What the . . ._ it took her a moment to get back her bearings as she watched the tall man walk away and take his place in line for a different shuttle. He turned just enough, tipped his chin down just enough with a knowing smile and winked. The image of a cute, adorable gamboling puppy came to mind.

Rissa felt her face flush to the roots of her hair, mortified that she had been caught watching him. She quickly scanned the large room for anything else to look at and noticed the elderly couple was alone. The little blond Jedi was gone and so were the Sith. _Frack!_

Not her problem, not her problem, not her problem. "Damn it," she swore softly before she hitched her bag over her shoulder and went to find the stupid kid.

_Damn it, this is not your problem so why the hell are you checking exits for this idiot? Didn't his own master tell him not to advertise he was a frackin' Jedi? Of course they were persona non grata as that guy said, Kinny – and what the hell kind of name was Kinny?_

_Focus! _

_If it hadn't been for her and Revan the Jedi wouldn't be pariah. They would still be the snotty, stuck up, holier-than-thou mystery do-gooders everyone thought they were._

"Damn it!" Rissa swore again when she spotted the kid's nearly white hair about twenty feet ahead of her with the two Sith closing in as the trio approached a side door that lead to the park beside the space port. She wasn't going to wonder about who this kid's master may have been. It certainly hadn't been Vrook since that old geezer would have beaten the kid bloody for going into a situation without knowing what was around him.

Rissa quickly stashed her bag behind some empty chairs before she pulled a long, razor sharp thin blade from the lining of her coat. Silent as the air around her she came up behind one of the Sith and easily slipped the blade in his back just under his rips. "It'll be quick," she promised with a hiss as she led him around a corner and into a small empty room. Once the door shut, she twisted the stiletto blade up and punctured his heart. Ignoring his guttural death throes, she wiped the blood on his clothes before slipping out of the room to find his partner. What had she said earlier about being a smuggler? _Now you could add assassin to that job description in addition to card hustler, thief and bounty hunter._

Maybe she was too late, she thought as precious minutes ticked away and she couldn't find either the Jedi or the Sith. And once again she asked herself why the hell she cared. This was no longer her fight, her problem. Didn't she just promise herself this morning she wouldn't get involved anymore, that she would only worry about her own problems? It wasn't like she didn't have some obsessed crime lord dogging her every step.

Rissa searched a few more minutes before retrieving her bag and heading back to the boarding area when her shuttle was called for departure. As she approached the gate she spotted the other man. Taller than her, dark hair and dark eyes scanning the area for his friend, except this one didn't seem like the friend type. His gaze landed on her, dismissed her and moved on to the next person. She didn't need the Force to know this one was better trained than the Sith lying crumpled in a maintenance room. No, this one was good at what he did; killing Jedi, she could see it in his empty eyes.

_What have you been doing, Revan, that you've created Sith assassins._


	4. Chapter 4

_Hull breach detected . . . Evacuate cargo section immediately . . ._

The veins in Rissa's eyelids pulsed in time to the screaming alarm. Reaching up, she pressed fingers to her temples to control the pounding in her head.

_Hull breach detected . . . Evacuate cargo section immediately . . ._

Groaning, she sat up and squinted through the acrid smoke, tinted red from the emergency lighting. Looking around she wanted to cry and it wasn't from the stinking smoke . . .

_**Four days ago **_

Coming here didn't make for the best of situations, but she had been told by a "friend of a friend" that the man here was a veritable god when it came to fixing ships or tweaking engines; or in her case, creating spaces within spaces for her new-found love of smuggling.

She found her sleek ship on a backwater, perpetually windy, planet in the outer rim. The Weequay who was selling it tried to swindle her but Rissa's Force-less negotiating skills had been considerably improved and the Weequay quickly corrected his error; gladly taking the credits she offered. The ship was sound but it needed some extra help. Well a paint job and a few of the dents banged out, but the engines were good and that's what mattered most. It was fast and it would get her where she wanted without having to sit in spaceports and get caught up in chasing down Jedi and Sith that were no longer her concern.

As Rissa approached the massive bustling space dock, she was reminded of the last time she was here as a Jedi General getting ready to lead her men to the slaughter against the Mandalorians. Here was Ferost, here were the Republic shipyards, the military she had so often hung out with, here she could be recognized, thought of as something she no longer was and that made her nervous.

_**Now**_

She felt the change in pressure a moment before the smoke in the cargo bay began to rapidly thin.

_Hull breach imminent . . . Evacuate cargo section immediately_

The distinct lack of oxygen in her next breath galvanized Rissa to scramble to her feet only to cry out in pain when her left knee failed and she stumbled.

The lowering blast door had her clambering across the decking. She wasn't going to die here. Not like this.

_**Then**_

_I was an idiot for coming here_, she thought as she snuck down the chaotic hallway of the hotel she'd checked into. Her intuition had become finely honed over the past months, understanding there were bad vibrations in the galaxy and they didn't need to be through the Force. Something was wrong on Ferost and when the alarms had gone off this morning she knew exactly what it was and no amount of military intervention was going to help.

She needed to reach her ship, the Marauding Wind, named for her new career as a marauder, a thief, an assassin, bounty hunter or whatever else filled her coffers and the dusty planet where she bought it. She needed to get out of the shipyards, off Ferost, and get away.

Keeping her head down, she moved along the wall to the office of Dex Bendre, the mechanic working on it. Through the windows she could see the fleet of ships approaching the yards, laying waste to the Republic cruisers, battleships, frigates, and fighters and anything that could possibly be used to wage a war. Something she never understood was why the Republic kept a portion of their standing fleet here in dry dock like sitting ducks. She watched the Sith - and undoubtedly Revan - destroy what had once been a thriving shipyard.

As she moved along, she lost track of the amount of times she turned into the wall to avoid the questioning looks she drew. Was she someone important? Was she a high ranking officer? Besides dying here, horribly, she was terrified someone would recognize her and she'd hear, "Thank the Force, it's General Rohm, come to save the day!" Snorting at the ridiculous thought she hurried on.

When she reached the hangar, the office door hung drunkenly off its hinges and a streak of fear that she may have been to late crept down her spine. From the inside, she could hear voices dark and cruel and she had no doubt they were Sith soldiers. When she stuck her head around the corner, she saw they stood in their gray uniforms like malevolent storm clouds getting ready to unleash their fury on unsuspecting citizens. She heard Dex cry out and witnessed one of Revan's thugs grab his hand and twist his pinky cruelly. From her vantage point across the room, she could hear the bone break. Dex was no one important, a contractor the Republic hired to do a little of this and a little of that and to help move freight using the people Dex hired himself. He was nothing, absolutely nothing to the Republic military or the war effort.

Once again the nagging thought of how nice it would be to wield the Force again came to mind. She could reach out and snap this asshole's neck and find some satisfaction in knowing he would never know what hit him. On the other hand she had learned that there was some satisfaction in a more hands-on approach. Sneaking in the room as they continued to beat on Dex, she unsheathed her vibroblade and separated the man's head from his shoulders before burying the blade in the chest of the other. Crazed with pain, Dex began begging for his life as he curled into a ball holding his crippled hand, tears streaming down his bruised and battered face. Rissa sheathed her blade and bent over. "It's alright. It's me. You're okay, it's only me." The man continued to beg and promised anything in the process just so he could go home to see his wife and kids.

This was something else she could lay at the feet of Revan. It wasn't just the destruction of the Jedi, the thievery of the soldiers he had taken with him when he left. It was the destruction of the lives he affected just by breathing. _And I helped him. I_ _used to defend against this._ She wanted to care, she really did, but she was finding it increasingly difficult. They may have taken the Force from her, but they hadn't taken her humanity but it was scary to realize it wasn't what it once was. The war had done her in. It wasn't the loss of the Force. Something else insidious was weaving its way through her mind. It wasn't just the things she had done. The things she had done in the name of . . . She swallowed back the bitter guilt that threatened to swamp her.

The explosion beside the hangar office cut off her thoughts and that was a good thing because she was getting tired of her mind wandering in these different areas she didn't want to explore. What they did during the war was coming home to roost and this was just the opening volley.

She tried to help Dex as quick as she could, but her patience was running thin and time was running out. She knew it wouldn't be much longer before Revan and his forces overran the shipyards and took whatever they wanted, murdered whoever stood in their way and she wasn't about to be caught because if Alek Squishymishywishywashy was with him well, chances were that psycho would blow the frackin' shipyards out of the sky . She helped the sniveling man to a small chair and did a quick check on him but she wasn't sure he would survive. He was in bad shape, not just physically, but mentally as well. She tried to administer first aid as she questioned him about where her ship was and what state it was in.

Shortly after she learned what hanger she needed, she let him go in his desperate desire to get home to his wife and his children. Well, more than likely they were gone. His wife ran a shop not far from the port and when she passed it earlier there was smoke pouring from the broken and shattered windows.

Making her way toward the hanger where the Marauding Wind sat she gathered the supplies she would need telling herself that if Dex made it through the onslaught that was coming, whatever merchandise he had wouldn't. Relief flooded through her when she found the hanger relatively intact, but as she feared, there were pieces of the Marauding Wind sitting around. All in all, the situation wasn't too bad. At least the engines hadn't been torn apart and it looked like most of the things that were sitting out weren't necessary to making the ship run.

She quickly assessed the damage as she carried parts up the loading ramp. Its sleek shape was recently painted and un-dinged, and as the battle outside grew fiercer, she was thankful that Dex had the opportunity to upgrade the weaponry. She didn't want to be caught in this firefight without some protection, some way to defend herself even though she would probably be dead before she got past the force field let alone the Sith blockade. Maybe they would be too busy to worry about one lone small cargo/smuggling ship. She'd deal with it, she thought as she finished tossing things up the loading ramp. Taking a quick look around the hanger, she helped herself to tools and other parts she might need at some point down the road as well as the necessary parts she would need to repair the Marauding Wind if she made it past the blockade. She hurried, she really did, but there were times the bombardment shook the station so violently that she would lose her footing or things would fall in her way, or she'd have to dodge the ceiling as it came down.

She would have to blast her way out of the hangar. Not very subtle, but that couldn't be helped. She wasn't after subtle, she was after surviving.

_**Now**_

Rissa smacked her head on one of the locking pins of the blast door as she ducked underneath to reach the relative safety of the Wind's main corridor. With a quick look over her shoulder she discovered her vibrosword had been left behind.

"Ah, crap!" She shot out her hand and experienced a stunning moment of disbelief when the blade failed to leap into her hand. Innate self-perseveration had her quickly retracting her empty palm as the blast door clanged shut with finality.

"Damn it Revan," she swore in a harsh whisper. "you frackin' bastard. This is all your fault."

_**Then**_

Heaving the last of the equipment up the ramp her worst nightmare, something she kept in the back of her mind, not wanting to acknowledge came walking up behind her.

"Laurissa?"

The sigh was heavy and heartfelt, her muscles tensed, ready for the onslaught and she wasn't disappointed when she heard the saber engage from behind her. And just as she had practiced for months on end, even after getting the crap beat out of her by Garrick, she was as quick as ever and met the saber with the Cortosis hardened vibrosword.

"Revan."

His laugh was both delightful and dark and sent a shiver down her spine. How in the world had she ever allowed herself any kind of feeling for him? If there was ever a reason to cram that no attachment rule down a Jedi's throat, this was it.

He pushed the hood back and removed the mask from his face. Oh he was tall, he was good looking, he was well built and he was every girls dream when you looked past the cracked and pasty gray skin, the yellow and red eyes. The thick mane of hair that he had been so proud of was now short stubble that resembled crops that had been caught in a drought, dry and brittle. All at once she was painfully aware of how vulnerable she really was. How vulnerable the galaxy was.

"Why aren't you in prison?"

"Why aren't you dead?"

But she would be, as she realized she had no defense. The vibrosword slowly lowered as her stomach dropped to her feet. It wasn't going to stop him. She couldn't sense the Force; she couldn't know what he was going to do. She had no way to counteract that. Even her sword would only last so long against his light saber; the blood-red saber he now carried.

"Bitterness, Rissa?"

"Delusions, Revan?"

She often wondered why so many people looked at the Jedi as something to be feared or skeptical of, to be cautious of and now she understood. She understood clearly it wasn't the seemingly religious mysticism that came with the order; it wasn't the idea of the Force, the Midiclorians, or any of the teachings. It was the fact that they couldn't defend against it. The chuckle was resigned and caught Revan by surprise.

"I could call you cold, even hateful," he said looking her over. "All good qualities in a Sith, but," he stopped his pacing. "You'd have to feel the Force to know that." He stepped forward. "What's it like to feel nothing?"

She tightened her grip on the hilt of her vibrosword. It wasn't coldness or even hatred she felt. Loathing came to mind, but he was right; she felt nothing, even for herself. "Like bouncing on a bunk with you."

His eyes narrowed as his saber sprang to life. "You always were a bitch."

Rissa defended herself the best she could even though he got a few kicks and punches in. _Why he doesn't just snap my neck with the Force,_ she thought as she backed toward the ramp of the Marauding Wind.

Was this her destiny, the destiny the Jedi put so much stock in, the destiny the Force had in mind. Strip her of its use then stick her with defending against the dark side for her crimes? What a bunch of sick, twisted bastards, she thought of the Midiclorians. Would it have been different if she could still use the Force?

_**Now**_

_Proximity alert . . . course correction required_

Using the wall for support and limping heavily, Rissa headed for the bridge but was thrown to the grated decking, her palms cut to shreds on the toothed tread.

"Ouch."

She rolled to her back and stared at the sparking wires hanging from the ceiling. Moments later a laugh bubbled up.

"I can't even die right."

_**Then**_

Rissa could feel the blade on the vibrosword failing. If she was lucky – and hey, she could now believe in luck – it would last long enough for her to reach her ship. If she was going to die here she would die on the one thing that truly belonged to her. _Now who's being delusional,_ she silently asked.

She was about to be dead, the Republic was screwed; they had been since Revan stepped foot on Malachor V. Maybe he really was the brilliant strategist everyone thought. Because he took whatever defense the galaxy had and he twisted it for his own purposes like he usually did. And now they were helpless.

A moment before her blade failed, Rissa pulled the blaster strapped to her thigh and fired at Revan's knee, forcing him to drop his blade to deflect the bolt.

Tipping his head to the side he asked, "Isn't that a little like bringing a knife to a gunfight?"

"I'm still standing, aren't I?" While his breathing was steady hers was labored. Not a good sign.

Revan nodded once, acknowledging the truthful statement. "For the moment."

She raised the blaster to chest level. "So, are you going to kill me because I impugned your manhood or because you're an ass?"

"Your impassioned responses to me when we were 'bouncing on a bunk' refute the first part of your statement as to the last, well; I'm not the one in exile, am I.

"No, your death will serve as a reminder to those that fail me. It's unacceptable and when that failure comes from someone who's broken as well," he shrugged. "I'll be doing the Jedi one last favor."

"Then I guess I better get it right." Rissa swung the blaster to her left and fired at the fuel tanks lining the hanger.

_**Now**_

_Proximity alert . . . course correction required_

"What now?" She called out. "Can't you just frackin' end this nightmare?"

_Proximity alert . . . course correction required_

Reaching the small bridge she fell into the command chair with a thud. She couldn't go into hyperspace. Hell, she couldn't go to sub-light.

_Proximity alert . . . course correction required_

Using the maneuvering thrusters she moved the ship the best she could to avoid the fighter that was missing one wing and half its pilot, his stunned face staring sightlessly from the cracked cockpit.

Rissa closed her eyes against the carnage around her.


End file.
